The Good, The Bad, and The Parodies
by ornitholestes
Summary: A collection of oneshots that parody various authors' stories on the Hogan's Heroes site; written with their knowledge and permission. Chapter two: Why Olsen?
1. The Newkirk Dilemma

Two authors wrote this, and had lots of fun,  
Parodying stories from two writers; not one.  
Stories that cover a popular theme:  
Picking on Newkirk, and making him scream!  
(One of the authors who wrote this, no doubt,  
Is one of whose stories this parody's about!)

Disclaimer: The Hogan's Heroes characters we do not own. They belong to others; they're just here on loan.

* * *

**The Newkirk Dilemma**

"I'm bored," Carter complained. He sighed and dealt out another card.

"Well, I'm beyond bored," Olsen retorted. "Look, I'm playing tic-tac-toe with myself."

"Haven't you heard anything on the radio?" LeBeau asked Kinch.

"No. It's been dead for 13 days, 4 hours, and 26 minutes. And now it's broken."

"Why do you think I'm here?" Baker asked. He received no answer. The men in the barracks were too depressed to talk.

"That's how long it's been since we've had a mission." Carter gave up on the solitaire game and tossed the cards on the floor. No one bothered to pick them up.

The men barely looked up as the door opened to reveal a sad-sack; otherwise known as Colonel Hogan. He dejectedly walked into the barracks.

"What did the Kommandant want, sir?" Kinch asked.

"The normal, ridiculous rigmarole about rations, respect, Red Cross packages, and rutabagas." He plopped into a chair. "We got an extra shipment."

"What the hell are rutabagas?" Carter asked.

"A root vegetable." LeBeau didn't even get excited at the mention of a food item.

Hogan glanced at the men, who were scattered across the barracks in every conceivable position. They all resembled a bunch of Debbie-downers.

"I bet this is how other POWs in all the other camps spend their time. Doing absolutely nothing." Olsen sniffled, rolled over, and faced the wall.

"You can say that again." Kinch did the same.

Hogan got up from the chair, walked over to Olsen's bunk, and shook the sergeant. "Aren't you supposed to be out?"

Olsen rolled over and faced the colonel. "No, sir. I was out last week. But, nothing happened, so I came back in. And I can't go out now, because no one is here to take my place." He sighed.

"Are you wearing my jacket?" Hogan demanded. He was feeling so out of sorts that he didn't realize he'd gone to the Kommandant's office without his bomber jacket and crush cap.

"I think so," Olsen replied. "To tell you the truth, I'm so discombobulated, I don't remember." He took off the jacket and handed it back to Hogan.

"Oh, my." Hogan went back to the table and sank down into a chair. "Anything on the radio?"

Kinch answered Hogan in a monotone. "Not since, you know… 13 days, 4 hours, and now 30 minutes."

No one bothered to move when Schultz opened the door and walked in. "Cockroach, you have anything to eat?"

"No. Why would I? There's nothing we need to know, nowhere we need to go, and no reason to bribe you. Go away."

"Hmmph." Schultz went over to Hogan. "Colonel, are you sick? You look like you lost your best friend."

"No, I'm not sick. What's up, Schultz?"

"A Gestapo car came through the gate. Major Hochstetter and a malevolent, mean looking, captain – no, major, I think – got out and walked into the Kommandant's office." Schultz held out his hand.

Hogan pawed through his pockets, retrieved a half-eaten candy bar and handed it over. "It's all I got."

"Thank you." Schultz left the barracks.

"I guess I'd better turn on the coffee pot." Hogan slowly got up and meandered into his office. He turned around and poked his head through the door. "Anyone?"

"Sure." Carter headed over. LeBeau and Kinch followed.

"Turn the damn thing on." Hogan pointed to Kinch.

"_Klink, this is Major Einstein."_

"_It's a pleasure, sir. I'm always happy to have the Gestapo in my camp."_

"_Liar!" Hochstetter shouted._

"_Liar, yes. Um, Einstein? As in the physicist?"_

"_No. The bagels."_

"You know they aren't real bagels. Rolls with holes. Not boiled. Shameful," Hogan sniffed.

"_What can I do for you, both?"_

"_We are looking for certain prisoners, Klink," Einstein answered. "Very specific. Zay must have certain, I should I say it…Qualities."_

"_May I ask what you want with these prisoners?"_

"_No, you may not."_

"_No, I may not," Klink repeated._

"_Get that…that…Senior POW officer in here. I forgot his name," Hochstetter said._

"Now that's bizarre." Kinch suddenly became more interested. A minute ago, he could care less.

"_You mean, Hogan?"_

"_Yes, Klink. Hogan."_

There was a lull in the action as Klink could be heard going to the door.

"Oh, no." Hogan got up and walked out.

"Bye," Carter whispered.

"Au revoir."

"Maybe we should all escape," someone from the barracks suggested.

"Can't," Hogan replied as he headed out into the compound. "We'd be canceled."

Hogan didn't wait for the escort. He began to walk across the camp. No, trudged was more like it. He felt like he was twice as heavy and slow as molasses. The camp looked almost surreal. It had a sepia-like tone to it. He didn't question the lack of color as he entered the building and waited to be announced.

Helga, who was dressed like any normal German woman in the 40's – dull and dowdy, and with no make-up – opened the door to Klink's office. "Colonel Hogan," she said in a bored tone.

Hogan offered a lackadaisical salute and waited.

"This is Major Einstein."

"Physicist?" Hogan asked.

"Bagels," the malevolent-looking major replied.

"You're taking me where?" Hogan, ready to be cuffed, held out his hands.

"Not you," Hochstetter replied.

"Then what am I doing here, and why do you all look black and white?"

"Sit down, Colonel." Einstein pointed to a chair, which Hogan took. He sighed.

"Nothing has happened in this war for a while," Einstein began to explain. "The front has stalled. The bombing raids have stopped. It's been…frozen."

_Tell me about it_, Hogan thought.

"It's been almost two weeks." Klink pointed to a calendar.

"There's something missing. We are looking for prisoners for reasons I won't explain. Prisoners with certain qualities."

"No cooperation from me. It's against the Geneva convention." Hogan stood up.

"That Englishman," Hochstetter said.

That got Hogan's attention. He tried to shake off the cobwebs in his brain.

"Newkirk?"

"That one!" Einstein perked up. "He has what we're looking for."

"British corporals?" Klink asked. "I'm sorry. He's in the cooler, in a coma, with a cold."

"13 days, 4 hours, and 45 minutes, sir." Hogan pointed out. _No wonder nothing is happening. No wonder I feel like…We can't move. We can't go on…_

Meanwhile: In the cooler, Newkirk, who was indeed in a coma, with a cold, was dreaming….

_It was the runny nose that interrupted Newkirk's beauty sleep. That, and the scratchy throat and stuffed up head. "Blimey." With his eyes still closed, he tried to reach for his handkerchief, but to his utter dismay, his arms weren't going anywhere. _

_His eyes snapped open. "How did I get here? And why am I shackled to a wall?" He looked down. His favorite pajama tops were missing. "All right, Peter. Calm down. Think." He pulled at the shackles and attempted to free his wrists. No luck. Turning his head…"Ooh, that hurt!" Newkirk glanced at the room that was now his own personal dungeon. Come to think of it, that's what it looked like. A scary looking steel table, complete with straps, was in the middle. Next to that, a very large and very odd-looking glass ball. "Now why does that look familiar? Sniff."_

_Suddenly AND without warning, the door swung open. In walked Hochstetter and an unidentified SS officer._

"_So. This is the Englander?" he asked Hochstetter._

"_Yes. Newkirk. At last!"_

"_I'm not talking, Major. Achoo. Sniff."_

"_We'll see." Hochstetter reached into a brown paper bag and removed several items. Newkirk's eyes opened wide and followed every move as the major brought the items closer and closer._

"_Make it easy on yourself, Corporal. Talk, and I'll let you have the Puffs, the Nyquil and a Ricola."_

_Newkirk licked his lips and pulled at the shackles. "Achoo. Hack. No. Never!"_

"_Bah!" Hochstetter tossed the cold supplies over his shoulder._

"_You'll talk if we go after one of your friends," the SS officer sneered._

"_No, not that!" Newkirk shouted, "No!"_

"_Yes! Hochstetter, bring over the ball!"_

"_Oh, God. Not the guv'nor. Please," Newkirk screwed up his eyes._

"_Watch, or I'll shoot your eye out!" Hochstetter ordered. _

_Newkirk slowly opened one eye and looked into the ball; which mysteriously broadcast a good picture. "Boy that's clear," he said._

"_Thanks! We've gone digital," Hochstetter replied._

"_Oh, Louis. NO! What have you done?"_

_LeBeau was being forced at gunpoint to work in an American greasy spoon. A waitress was shouting out orders, which the French chef, who was close to tears, repeated._

"_One SOS!"_

"_One SOS."_

"_One cheeseburger, hold the pickles, hold the lettuce!"_

"_Whatever," Louis sobbed._

"_One dog with the works!"_

"_Dog!" Louis screamed._

"_One PBJ on Wonderbread!"_

_Newkirk watched in horror._

"_Talk, Newkirk, and we will transfer him to a 5 star restaurant; or maybe a slot on the Food Network."_

"_No, I can't. Forget the others. Get it over with."_

"_He's too stubborn," Hochstetter said. "Bring in the Colonel!"_

_Newkirk watched in utter terror as the colonel was dragged into the room by two burly guards, forced onto the table, and strapped down._

"_Whatever they do to me, Newkirk; don't talk."_

"_But…but…you're the guv'nor. Achoo. I can't…"_

"_Newkirk! That's an order. And where's your pajama top?"_

"_Yes, sir. An order. They took the top. Sniff. The present. The one with the little hearts and…"_

"_Ooh." Hogan winced. "That's low." He ogled Newkirk for a moment and then winced again as the maniacal-looking SS officer ripped off his shirt, popping buttons all over the place._

"'_Ey, it took me 'ours to sew those on properly!" _

"_You'll have more than buttons to worry about, when I'm through with the likes of you," the SS officer threatened._

_He's one ace short of a full deck, Hogan thought._

_He and Newkirk then watched in utter shock as the SS officer wheeled over a cart filled with all sorts of evil looking implements. He removed a full set of kitchen knives complete with a sharpener, a corkscrew, an egg slicer, a can opener and a blender._

"_Care to help, Hochstetter?"_

"_No, I'll watch."_

"_Who's first?" The SS officer grabbed a knife and headed over to the table._

_Hogan strained at the straps. He wasn't going anywhere. "Hold it. Let him go. It's me you want!"_

"_Wait!" Newkirk shouted, "'Ang on, sir. Isn't that my line? Cough. And shouldn't I be the one on the table, then?"_

"_I don't know," Hogan answered. "This wasn't well thought out, was it?" He turned to Hochstetter. "What do you think?"_

"_Stop stalling!" The SS officer came closer. "I'm ready to carve! What does it matter, who says what?"_

_Hochstetter held up his hand. "No, Hogan is right. He's supposed to watch his men being tortured, not the other way around."_

"_I think the author is confused," Hogan stated. "Newkirk and I should switch places."_

"_I agree. Sniff."_

"_What do you take me for? An idiot? This is all an elaborate plot to escape. You're both going down." The SS officer held the knife directly across from Hogan's sternum…._

Meanwhile: Back at Stalag 13, where prisoners and guards, alike, were leading their humdrum lives, and where nothing interesting ever seemed to happen…

"Well???" Einstein asked.

"Well, what?" Hochstetter, Klink and Hogan replied.

"Aren't we going to go get the corporal? He's the one I'm looking for."

"To do what, Major?" Hogan didn't look up. He was checking his fingernails. "Take him out of the cooler to do what? Torture him?"

"That's none of your business, Colonel."

Hogan stood up. "I, uh…I think it is, Major. Isn't it Kommandant?"

"Beats me," Klink said.

"I think that's what you're doing here," Hochstetter stated matter-of-factly.

"Really, Major? I thought I was here to steal the towels."

"Hooogaaaan!"

"The corporal – in the cooler!" Einstein screamed. "Focus, Klink!"

"Fine. We'll go get him; even if he is in a coma. Perhaps Hogan can wake him up." Einstein pulled out his gun and pointed it at Hogan.

"Gee whiz, Major, I'll go." The three Germans and one bored, depressed pilot slowly trudged over to the cooler, and found Newkirk smack in the middle of a nightmare. A doozy by the looks of it.

"_No, stop, please, not that… Anything but that! Not my sideburns! I'll kiss you if you'll stop…"_

"He'll kiss anybody," Hogan said. "Figures he'd be having a nightmare. Now what?"

"Wake him up!" Einstein hissed.

"Oh, right. Newkirk, it's a dream, wake up," Hogan gently poked the corporal's shoulder. "He's in a coma. I don't know if this will…"

"Is that you, guv'nor?" Newkirk's eyes fluttered open.

"Yes! You were having a bad dream. You're okay!" Hogan stood up a little straighter. A rose next to Klink's headquarters blossomed and turned red.

"I don't feel so good." Newkirk's eyes closed again and he lay still.

"Newkirk? Newkirk! Oh, God, he's back in a coma again." The rose withered. _Think, Hogan think. _His brain, numb and turning to cabbage from 13 days and 5 hours of inactivity, tried to process the scenario. "Aha!" He snapped his fingers. "Get Carter!"

*********

"Schultz, what do you need me for? I'm depressed and lethargic." Carter and Schultz were now trudging across the compound.

"Something about Newkirk and a coma."

Carter looked confused. "Newkirk?"

"Your best friend," Schultz reminded him. Carter still had a blank look. "Your buddy. The magician. The safecracker. The one who always teases you, and…"

"Stop. Does he have an English accent?"

"Yes!"

"About this high, wears a blue jacket, and likes overcooked vegetables?"

"Yes!"

"Plays a mean granny?"

"Yes!"

"My best…" The light dawned in Carter's eyes, and his feet began to move faster through the camp, leaving Schultz huffing and puffing in his wake as the forsythia next to the rec hall bloomed a bright yellow.

"I'm here, sir." Carter stopped as he saw Hochstetter and Einstein. "Who are they?" he whispered.

"You remember Major Hochstetter, Carter?"

"Hochstetter, Hochstetter… Bah?"

"And this is Major Einstein. He wants us to wake Newkirk out of his coma, so he can take him away again, for goodness knows what."

"You can't let them do that, Colonel! He's my best buddy!"

"He iz what we are looking for," Einstein stated.

"He's sick, and hurt, and he has a cold. Carter, you have to wake him, one way or another. Or we'll lose a British actor, and they're good for ratings."

Carter wiped a tear and sat on the cot. He took Newkirk's hand in his. "Newkirk, I'm here for ya buddy. I know you tease me and make fun of me and say nasty things sometimes that aren't even in the script, but deep down, I know you're my best buddy and I let ya do that, because I know it helps your morale and all that stuff…I mean, I'm really not that stupid." Newkirk remained still. "It's not working, Colonel. What if he…"

"Don't think that, Carter. Keep trying."

"Newkirk. We need you. Nothing can go on without you. Who'll go get the replacement radio parts? Things are so dull around here…we haven't had a mission in almost two weeks. The camp doesn't even look right without you. Please."

"Look out the window!" Everyone except Carter turned. Klink pointed. A tree, barely visible through the bars, had leaves that had turned a bright green. "Amazing," Klink said.

"He squeezed my hand! Come on, Peter."

"Andrew, is that you?"

"Yes! Open your eyes."

"ACHOO!"

"Ugh." Carter wiped his now wet hands on his pants. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief.

"Here."

Newkirk opened his eyes and grabbed the handkerchief. He blew his nose and then looked around. "What 'appened?"

Hogan, now smiling, walked over. "You caught a cold, and then were almost blown up, and then got thrown into the cooler for an overextended dental visit."

"Seven hours," Klink sniffed. "Plus getting Schultz plastered." (1)

"And you fell into a coma."

"Blimey!"

"Hey look! His jacket turned blue!" Carter exclaimed. Sure enough, bit by bit, the camp was returning to living color.

"It's my sunny personality," Newkirk quipped, closing his eyes again.

"Marvelous!" Einstein let out a maniacal and evil cackle. "Now he iz mine."

"What?" Newkirk struggled to sit up. "Sorry, I missed that. Help me, Carter."

"You are what I have been looking for," Einstein repeated.

Hogan, now feeling a bit better, quickly put himself between the major and his corporal. "Over my dead body, Major!"

"That could be arranged, Colonel." Einstein pointed his gun at Hogan, eliciting a squeal from Klink and Schultz.

Carter let go of Newkirk, who fell back on the cot with a thud and a sneeze. The sergeant then jumped in between Hogan and Einstein. "No one's shooting the colonel, boy... I mean, sir. You have to go through me, first."

"Down, Carter. You dropped your best buddy." Hogan pointed at the cot.

"Oh, sorry." Carter sheepishly went back over to the cot and helped Newkirk sit back up again.

"Wait a minute," Hochstetter interrupted. "You can't do that to Hogan. I'll have no reason to yell."

"Now, let's not be hasty," Klink whined. "What exactly are your plans for Corporal Newkirk? I need to know. Paperwork, you understand."

"True. Very well, then." Einstein lowered his gun. "Corporal!"

Newkirk, eyes closed again, didn't move.

Carter reached over and shook his shoulder, making Newkirk wince.

"What?!" he asked.

"Someone wants to ask you a question, Newkirk," said Hogan.

"I'm not asking him here! I am taking him vith me!"

Newkirk reopened his eyes and looked at everyone, spotting Einstein.

"Aw, have a heart, Major," said Hogan. "Look at him…is he in any shape to get up, nevermind go anywhere?"

Newkirk gave them puppy-dog eyes.

"Fine, fine!" the major exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. "But listen carefully, und answer me truthfully, do you understand?"

Newkirk nodded. "Yes sir."

"All right…" the major knelt beside the cot.

As one, Hogan, Carter, Klink, Hochstetter, and Schultz leaned closer, their faces right beside Einstein's and each other's.

Major Einstein blinked and turned his head, scowling at them until they stood back up. "Now, Englander, I have a question."

"I know, ya said that. What is it, already?"

The Major sighed. "I vant to know how you do it."

Hogan and Carter's stomachs flopped at that, and they glanced at each other.

"Uh…do what, Major? ACHOO!"

"Bless you!" Carter threw in.

"Tell me right now," said the major, trying to ignore the wet particles on his sleeve. "I vant to know exactly how you have all these wunderbar authors fall in love vith you und vrite all the stories about you."

Newkirk blinked. That was one question he never thought he'd be asked. "Und vhy…I mean, uh, an' _why_ wouldja wanna know that?"

Einstein stood. "Because I vant vhat you have! I crave such attention from so many beautiful frauleins! Vhat makes you better than me? Vhat?!"

Everyone looked at him like he was insane.

Newkirk tried to prop himself on one elbow, and Carter helped him. "First of all, mate, ya don't want what I have."

"I don't?"

"Are ya crackers?! They don't treat me as well as ya think!" Newkirk shook his head and wiped his nose with a handkerchief. "They torture the daylights outta me!"

Einstein frowned. "Vhy would they do such a thing?"

"It's psychological," Carter cut in. "Women enjoy lavishing care and attention on the men they love…but a healthy man can't _get_ that attention unless he _needs_ it…which is where the torture and physical/mental harm come in. With the man now vulnerable, the woman can then take care of him and make him all better."

Everyone stared at Carter in shock.

"Listen to 'im, 'e's exactly right," said Newkirk. "Do ya really wanna be shot, an' stabbed, an' thrown down cliffs, an' given amnesia, an' frozen 'alf to death, an' kidnapped by psychos, among other things? I've even been given the measles, for goodness sake!"

"Hey," said Carter. "How did that author know that you never had the measles as a kid?"

Newkirk shook his head. "Beats me, mate." He looked back at the major. "Anyway, that's what ya 'ave to look forward to, if ya really want what I 'ave."

Carter shook his head. "And he calls himself 'Einstein'."

The major looked at him. "It's Einstein the bagels, not Einstein the physicist!" He then looked at Newkirk. "How do I know that you are telling me the truth? Maybe you are just trying to keep them all to yourself!"

"ACHOO!" Newkirk exclaimed. He lay back down, unable to keep himself in the half-sat-up position. He was pale and sweaty, looked thinner, and had fever-flush on his cheeks. "Look at me, Major. Need I say more? Next week, I'll probably be shot again...or tomorrow, even…I never spend too much time in 'ere, the authors make sure of that, because I can't get into any trouble in the cooler. I'll definitely survive though…I'm no good to these authors dead."

Both majors seemed to realize at the same time that no, they absolutely did _not_ want what Newkirk had…

…as one, they both ran out…screaming.

Newkirk laughed, but it turned into a nasty cough. "There. I gave 'em the what-for." He smiled, and the whole camp came alive again in glorious Technicolor.

"Great job, boy!" said Carter. He bent down and picked a flower that appeared out of thin air.

"Newkirk," said Klink.

"Yeah?"

"I believe that the author currently writing this scene is compelling me to let you out of the cooler."

"Good girl. Her, not you," said Newkirk, sitting up with Hogan's help. He stopped, and closed his eyes with a sigh. "On second thought, maybe I should stay in 'ere."

"Why?" they all asked, without thinking.

"Because it probably means that I'm about to be tortured again in some way!" Newkirk opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. "Why me? Why—"

Suddenly, he fell over into a coma again.

Hogan caught him, with a sigh. "I wonder which author just did that?"

THE END  
…of this story, not any future Newkirk torture. ROTFL!

* * *

(1) Happiness Is A Warm Sergeant, season one.


	2. Why Olsen?

The following parody was written by one;  
An author who wanted to write something fun.  
The writer, whose work has been parodied here,  
May be easy to guess; it is rather clear.  
But it's all in good fun - just so you're aware,  
It's an answer, in fact, to a triple-dog-dare!

Disclaimer: None of these characters I claim to own; Hogan's Heroes, and the others, are just here on loan.

* * *

**Why Olsen?**

"Colonel! Message from HQ… It's urgent!" Kinch exclaimed as he climbed out of the tunnel and into the barracks. He strode over to the table where Hogan was sitting, along with the rest of the core group; LeBeau, Carter and Newkirk.

When he got there, Kinch handed Hogan the paper he was carrying. "You're not going to like it, sir," he said as Hogan took it from him and began to read.

Hogan's eyes grew wide. "What? Oh, she's gone too far this time! It's bad enough she's killed me, what, three times? Four? And now she's going to kill Olsen!"

Olsen leaped from his bunk. "Wh-wh-what?" he stuttered.

"That can't be!" LeBeau exclaimed, "Why would she want to kill Olsen?"

"Yeah," Newkirk chimed in, "After all the ruddy trouble she went through to write a whole bloomin' story about 'im!"

Carter's jaw was still hanging open. He quickly shut his mouth, and then said, "It's a joke, right, Colonel? She's not really going to kill Olsen; she's just playing a trick on him… And on us!"

Hogan glanced around the room to each man, and shook his head slowly. "No, it's no joke. In fact, she's already written it. See?" He held up the paper in front of the men, which unfolded like an accordion into many connected sheets; the story covering the pages.

Olsen took one look and blanched. "Nooo! I don't want to die!" he shouted, and ran out of the barracks.

The rest of the men gasped as they quickly scanned the pages. "She's merciless, Colonel," LeBeau uttered quietly.

"Not to mention barmy!" Newkirk exclaimed. "Colonel, why is it that one minute, we're laughin' and jokin' and 'avin' a grand ol' time in her stories, and the next; you're dyin' of pneumonia, or bein' hauled away by Hochstetter and tortured to death… Why?"

"Don't forget you being court-martialed, sir," Carter piped up, "Or interrogated by OSS agents, or having your liver destroyed by a bullet, and being saved at the last minute by some very strange visitors from who-knows-where…"

"I think he remembers that, Carter," Newkirk retorted.

"You know, Colonel," Kinch said, "She's written some pretty funny stuff about us, too. What do you suppose would happen if she wrote a story and included some of each in it?"

"You mean; tragedy and comedy in the same story?" Hogan asked.

"Yes, sir, that's exactly what I mean," Kinch replied, "And while she's at it, maybe she can tell us why she's having Olsen get killed."

Hogan appeared to contemplate it for a moment. "I don't know if she'll do that," he said at last, "But I know someone we can ask, who might. Kinch, give HQ a call back, and pass our idea on to that other writer; the one that checks this one's work. I bet she can come up with something."

"Yes, sir," Kinch responded. Then he turned and walked over to the false-bottom bunk, and disappeared below.

"Now what, Colonel?" Carter asked.

Hogan folded his arms. "Now, we wait."

* * *

Colonel Robert E. Hogan woke to the sound of coughing. The winter had been exceptionally cold this year, and a lot of guys had fallen ill. Some of them had developed pneumonia, and a few unfortunate souls had eventually succumbed to the sickness. There were several men in his own barracks that were still fighting it, and he was one of them. It was his own coughing that he'd heard when he'd woken up.

He sat up in the darkness, and instantly felt dizzy. It was then he noticed the sweat pouring down his face, and when he reached up to feel his forehead, it was extremely hot. Suddenly his body launched into a terrible coughing fit – wet and raspy – and he fell back onto his bunk, exhausted.

The door to his quarters opened, and LeBeau came tiptoeing in. He approached Hogan's bunk and whispered, "Mon Colonel, how are you feeling?"

"Not good," Hogan uttered, which triggered a new bout of coughing. When it had subsided, LeBeau felt Hogan's forehead, and his eyes widened with alarm. "I'm going to go get Wilson," he said, and rushed out of the room.

Hogan began coughing again, his body wracked with pain and fever. His consciousness started to fade in and out, and as he labored to suck in air, the room faded from view. A shudder ran through him, and he couldn't fight it anymore; his body gave up, and he breathed his last.

LeBeau returned with Wilson, who spotted Hogan's condition immediately, and rushed over to the bunk. He reached up and placed his hand on Hogan's throat, feeling for a pulse, and after a few moments, slowly pulled his hand away. He looked up at LeBeau, masking his emotions as much as possible, and stated, "He's dead."

"Oh, no," LeBeau breathed, "Oh, Wilson, he can't die… What are we going to do?"

"We'll just have to carry on without him, won't we?" Wilson answered, stoically. "Do you want me to tell the others?" he added.

"No," LeBeau replied, "I'll do it."

LeBeau went out into the main barracks, Wilson following, closing Hogan's door behind him. When LeBeau had gotten everyone's attention, he said, "I have something to tell you." He paused for a moment; then continued, "Colonel Hogan, he is, I mean… Oh, he's gone." He went over to his bunk and sat down heavily.

"What?" Newkirk was the first to respond, "What do you mean, 'gone'? He can't be!"

"Yeah, not the Colonel," Carter piped up, jumping up from his bunk, "He'd never leave us like that; just get sick and die!"

Kinch nodded in agreement. "I always thought the colonel would get killed doing something heroic…it's hard to believe he was taken down by a bunch of germs."

LeBeau gestured to the door leading to Hogan's quarters. "Go see for yourself," he stated wearily.

Just then the door LeBeau was pointing to opened, and Hogan strolled out, wearing a top hat and coattails. He had a cane in one hand, and was singing merrily, "Hello, my baby, hello, my darling, hello, my rag time gal…"

The men instantly perked up at the sight. "Colonel! You're alive!" LeBeau exclaimed.

"Well, of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?" Hogan answered gaily. He continued his soft-shoe routine out into the compound, while the rest of the men followed, shaking their heads in confusion.

After they lined up for roll call, Klink came storming out of his office. He took one look at Hogan and scowled. "Colonel Hogan, what are you wearing?" he asked.

"Just trying to add a touch of class to the place, Kommandant," Hogan replied, grinning.

"Well, I don't like it," Klink stated, "You will change immediately after roll call, and if I see you out of uniform again, you will get thirty days in the cooler!"

"Spoil sport," Hogan pouted.

As soon as they were dismissed, Hogan returned to his quarters and changed into his uniform. Then he called his men in to join him, and got down to business. "Okay, now that I'm back, we need to go over our plans for evacuating the camp. The SS are on the prowl, and I've heard they've been removing certain prisoners from POW camps, and killing them. I won't let that happen here."

"But, sir," Newkirk said, "Gettin' everyone out of 'ere is a big job; 'ow are we goin' to do it without gettin' caught?"

"I have a few ideas," Hogan replied, "It's going to take teamwork and planning, and I'll have to send Olsen out of camp…"

"For reconnaissance, sir?" Kinch cut in.

"No, I just don't want him getting killed… Too much paperwork."

The men nodded in agreement.

At that moment, the door to Hogan's quarters opened, and Schultz entered. "Colonel Hogan, the Kommandant wants to see you right away," he announced.

"About what, Schultz?" Hogan asked.

"Two new prisoners just arrived in camp," Schultz informed him.

"All right, Schultz, lead the way." Hogan got up and grabbed his crush cap.

They walked across the compound, and arrived at Klink's office. As they entered, Hogan began to speak. "Kommandant, I just found out that we have two new prisoners, and you know I'm supposed to be present when you…" His eyes widened with surprise when he saw the new arrivals. "What? Not you two, again!" he exclaimed, staring at Boswell and Garrett.

"Colonel Hogan," Klink said irritably, "I don't know what these two are doing back here, but I don't like it!"

Hogan frowned. "I don't like it, either."

Boswell and Garrett just shrugged.

"Well, they're your responsibility now," Klink told Hogan, "Take them and get out!"

"Yes, sir," Hogan said. He left Klink's office, and headed back to the barracks, the two OSS agents in tow. When they got inside, everyone groaned.

"Not again!" LeBeau shouted.

"'Aven't you caused enough trouble?"added Newkirk.

"Hey, c'mon, that's not fair!" Boswell replied defensively, "We left on good terms, remember?"

"Yes, you did," Hogan said, "But every time you two show up, something bad happens."

"Well, we're not here to cause trouble, Colonel," Garrett spoke up, "We just wanted to let you know that you don't need to evacuate the camp. We heard from a reliable source that the SS won't be showing up here."

Hogan's eyebrows rose. "What? How did you know about that?" Then, after mulling it over for a moment, said, "Never mind, I don't want to know."

Suddenly Schultz came barging into the barracks, carrying a huge box. He set the box down on the table and looked at Hogan. "This arrived with the new prisoners," he stated.

"What, a duffel bag wasn't big enough?" Hogan quipped. "Just what is this, anyway?" he asked, walking over to the box.

Garrett smiled. "It's a gift," he said. "Take a look."

Hogan opened the box, and pulled out a very stylish, hand-knitted men's sweater. "Very nice," he remarked; then looked in the box and saw that it was filled with sweaters.

"Thought you'd like them," Garrett beamed. "I started my own chain…I call it: BG's Outerwear – perfect for 'staying alive' on those cold, winter nights."

"BG's?" Carter echoed.

Boswell grinned. "I'm his manager."

"Hey, that's great!" Carter replied enthusiastically, ""Maybe we should put that under 'Announcements' in the next Gazette."

Just then they all heard a car come screeching to a halt outside, and crowded around the barracks door to see who it was. The car door opened, and everyone was surprised to see Freitag and his aide, Mannheim, get out. Freitag glanced in the direction of the barracks, and then the two men headed to Klink's office.

"Oh, crap, I forgot they were coming today," Hogan said. "I'm supposed to kill Freitag; he knows too much about the Manhattan Project – whatever that is." He opened the top of the bench next to the table, and pulled out a gun. "Be right back," he called out as he headed off across the compound.

"Uh, shouldn't we stop him?" Garrett asked, looking confused.

"No," Kinch said, and sat down with a sigh, "It has to be this way."

"But, he'll be killed!" Boswell exclaimed.

The men nodded solemnly. "We know."

Hogan entered the outer office, and saw Klink standing there. "Freitag in your office?" he asked him.

"Why, yes, Hogan, he is," Klink answered, "What business is it of yours?"

"I just need a moment alone with him, Kommandant. Excuse me," he said as he pushed past Klink. He entered the inner office, drew the gun out from underneath his jacket, and pointed it at Freitag. "Ah, at last we meet for the third time, for the last time!"

Freitag looked confused. "What?"

"Uh," Hogan shook his head to clear it, "Never mind. Say your prayers, Freitag!" He pulled the trigger, and Freitag fell to the floor, dead.

Klink and Mannheim came running in. "Now look what you've done, Hogan!" Klink shouted, "I just had that floor cleaned!"

"I'm calling the Gestapo," Mannheim said as he reached for the phone.

A short time later, Hochstetter's car came roaring into camp. It screeched to a halt behind Freitag's car, and the Gestapo major got out; stomping quickly up to Klink's office. When he got inside, he took one look at the gun in Hogan's hand and body on the floor, and exclaimed happily, "Aha! I've caught you red-handed, Hogan!"

"Actually, Klink caught me red-handed," Hogan quipped, "And so did Mannheim. But you come in a close third!"

"Enough!" Hochstetter yelled, "You're coming with me, Hogan!" He took the gun from Hogan, slapped a pair of handcuffs on him, and led him out to the car.

"Can I at least say goodbye to my men?"Hogan asked, turning a pleading look on the major.

"No! Now, get in the car! Schnell!"

As the car sped out of camp, Hogan braced himself for what was coming…a thorough torturing by Hochstetter, no doubt. He mentally tried to steal himself for the upcoming confrontation, when there was an audible 'Pop', and the car started to wobble. Hochstetter pulled over to the side of the road, cursing at the flat tire. He got out and began to rummage around in the trunk, looking for the jack.

Suddenly a couple of strange men appeared, and one of them placed a hand on Hochstetter's shoulder. The next moment, the Gestapo major slumped to the ground, and the other figure opened the door to the back seat.

"Come with me if you want to live," the man said.

"Captain, I believe that line belongs to someone else," the one who had incapacitated Hochstetter stated.

"It does?" The Captain replied, glancing over at his cohort, "Yes, I believe you're right, Spock. All right," he turned back to Hogan and removed the handcuffs, "Colonel, if you would come with us, please?"

"Who are you?" Hogan asked, growing suspicious, "And where are you taking me?"

"I'm Captain James T. Kirk, and this is my first officer, Mr. Spock. We're here to take you back to your camp."

"But, I can't go back there!" Hogan exclaimed. "Once they find out that someone helped me escape from Hochstetter, they'll go after my men…and the Underground!"

"Don't worry, Colonel Hogan; we've got that all under control."

Hogan's eyes narrowed. "How do you know my name?"

Kirk sighed. "The file said you were hard-headed…" He shot a look at Spock, who came over and placed his hand on Hogan's shoulder. The Colonel tensed, and then lost consciousness.

Hogan wasn't sure what happened after that, only that he woke up in his quarters, and his men were crowded around him. "Wha…what happened?" He asked groggily.

"Never seen anythin' like it!" Newkirk exclaimed, "Two men brought you back 'ere, and then went into Klink's office, and managed to convince 'im that Mannheim shot Freitag!"

Hogan's brow furrowed with confusion. "They…they did?"

"Oui, mon Colonel!" LeBeau answered. "Then Hochstetter came back looking for you, and they were able to convince him as well!"

"Where's Hochstetter now?" Hogan asked, sitting up.

"He arrested Mannheim, and took him away, sir," Kinch told him; then smiled wide. "Looks like you're in the clear."

"And those two men?"

"They're in the outer barracks, sir," Carter replied, "They said they wanted to talk to you before they left. Said it was important."

Hogan reached up and absently rubbed his shoulder. "All right, send them in," he stated.

"Yes, sir," Carter responded, and opened the door.

The two men walked in. "Gentlemen, could we have a few moments alone with your Colonel?" Kirk asked, "We need to speak to him privately."

The men looked at Hogan, who nodded. "All right," Newkirk said, "But we'll be right outside if you need us, Colonel." The men left, and Kirk turned to face Hogan.

"I suppose you'd like to know what's going on," Kirk began, taking a seat next to the desk.

Hogan eyed him warily. "The thought had crossed my mind."

"We couldn't let Hochstetter take you away for interrogation, Colonel; you would have ended up taking cyanide, and killing yourself."

Hogan couldn't have looked more baffled. "How could you know that, Captain…what did you say your name was?"

"Kirk."

"Captain Kirk. And how could I take cyanide, anyway? I didn't have any on me, and even if I did, they would have found it when they searched me."

Kirk contemplated a moment, and then said, "Let's just say someone could have slipped it to you. We couldn't let that happen; you see, we can't save you from the effects of the cyanide. Not like we did from the pneumonia…"

"What?" Hogan exclaimed, "You saved me from the pneumonia?"

Kirk smiled. "Yes, well, actually, it was Dr. McCoy…we beamed him down to your quarters once your men left. One shot from his hypodermic needle, and, voila! You were cured!"

"Beamed down? Hypodermic… All right, just what is going on here?" Hogan shouted, becoming angry.

"We could not allow you to die, sir," Spock said, "Our records indicate that, should you do so, it will irreparably change the course of history. It is necessary that you survive the war."

"It is?" Hogan was becoming more confused, "How do you…I mean, how could you know that? Unless you're from the…future…" His eyes grew impossibly wide.

Kirk grinned. "Something like that."

"Captain," Spock said, "There is one more thing…"

"Oh, right, Mr. Spock." Kirk became serious again. "Colonel, there is a mission coming up soon that is going to require four men. You have to make sure Olsen is one of them."

"Why Olsen?" Hogan asked, becoming suspicious again.

"Because he's going to get shot…and he's not going to make it." Kirk replied quietly.

"What? You're crazy! I'm not going to send one of my men out to be killed!"

"If you do not," Spock stated calmly, "Major Hochstetter will discover your operation after capturing Olsen in town and using him as bait to lure you into a trap. Major Hochstetter will then have you and everyone else in this barracks executed, and the rest of the prisoners will be marched to work camps. Many men will die that were not supposed to. Do you understand?"

Hogan thought about it for a while. "Are you sure about this?" He asked at last.

"I'm afraid so," Kirk replied.

Hogan nodded. "I guess the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one."

Kirk and Spock shot a glance at each other. "Well said," Kirk uttered as he clapped Hogan on the shoulder. He got up from the chair he'd been sitting on and turned to his first officer. "Looks like our job here is done, Mr. Spock."

"Yes, Captain," Spock answered.

As they started to leave, Hogan called out, "Wait! Can't you tell me anything about the future?"

Kirk turned back to him. "Like what, Colonel?"

"Like, uh, World Series scores, maybe?"

Kirk smiled. "Sorry, that's cheating." Then he and Spock left; satisfied to have saved the future once again.

* * *

The men finished reading the story that Kinch had just received from HQ. They leaned back and sighed.

"So, that's why Olsen gets killed!" Carter exclaimed at last. "Well, at least there's a reason for it."

"Oui," LeBeau said, "And it's not like it's permanent, anyway."

Newkirk nodded. "True, he'll bounce back, just like the Colonel; won't he, sir?"

"Yes, I'm sure he will," Hogan reassured him. "So," he continued, addressing his men, "Who wants to go find him?"

"I will," Kinch volunteered.

"All right, Kinch," Hogan said, "And when you do, just bring him back here, so he can read this for himself. I'm sure once he does, he'll understand."

After Kinch left, LeBeau asked Hogan, "Do you think that writer will ever stop killing us, Colonel?"

"I hope so," Hogan muttered; then reached up and began to rub his shoulder. "I don't need any more visits from Kirk and Spock!"

The End


End file.
